


Shibari

by Khoraz



Series: Training Days [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Rope Bondage, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8861836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoraz/pseuds/Khoraz
Summary: There's a scandal beneath your clothes...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I decided, after the wonderful comments on Self-Control, to make this into a snapshot series of the Reader and Jumin's relationship.
> 
> I'll be taking requests if anyone would like to see a particular scenario, so let me know in the comments!
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoy~

“Mr. Sung, you’ve met my lovely wife?”

He introduces you with pride that makes your heart swell. If you were honest with yourself, you can’t stand these fancy functions with the noble elite putting on airs and the stuffy atmosphere of back-scratching, but you know that he needs you there. You’re his support as much as you are his kitten. You let him be himself in private, so that he can be the CEO in public.

You’re wearing what he gifted to you earlier that day; a deep violet dress that flutters across your body in multiple sheets of fabric, creating a wave-like movement with each step you take. Sensuous enough to make the men in the room look twice, but nowhere near sordid. You think he likes the idea of other people wanting you, but there is a very fine line there that you know not to push.

His hand touches the small of your back to guide you through the glittering party and your breath hitches – a sound for his ears only. His fingers press a little harder against something hidden beneath your lovely dress, a low burn echoing across your pale skin. 

It won’t be pale by the end of the evening. You can almost picture the reddened lines forming where skilful rope-work criss-crosses over your body. He can to, if the pleased glimmer at the corner of his eye is anything to go by. It’s easy disguised by practiced smiles and impeccable social graces, but you know him better than anyone; you can see the tangled threads that he hides from everyone else.

He takes you to a seat, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman. The motion of sitting draws another low gasp and your thighs subtly tense beneath the table. A line of rope rubs insistently between your legs in the seated position and you squirm ever so slightly. A look for him tells you to keep still. Self-control, you remind yourself. You’ve been over this.

It’s incredibly hard to maintain your posture and polite smile as a rather plump man with a greying moustache sites on the table beside you. It’s Mr. Chang, you remember; one of him Chinese clients. You need to make a good impression.

“Mr. Han, a pleasure to see you with your bride. I heard the wedding was quite something.”

He smiles, pleased that his extravagant declaration of love for you reached other nations. “Of course. I will have nothing but the best for the woman at my side.”

You smile and offer a soft affirmation of adoration, tilting your body slightly to linger closer to him. He appreciates that, and places a firm hand against your thigh, fingers working the fabric upwards until his touch meets bare flesh. He’s testing you as he talks business with Mr. Chang.

A finger pressed between the rope and your skin, tightening the brilliant red material until it rubs even harder. You reach for the glass of wine that had been placed in front of you, holding it perhaps a little too tightly. Thankfully no one notices as you press the red wine to your lips to take a modest sip. He doesn’t drink much and you don’t either, but sometimes it can help steady the nerves.

He’s playing a dangerous game here; such a scandal would spell a hideous media fallout the likes of which even Jahee would struggle to keep quiet… but he’s showing that he trusts you not to make such a scene. He trusts you to handle the pressure, and you will not let him down.

Mr. Chang has leaned away, and it’s just the two of you again. He turned to press a chaste kiss to your cheek in a rare display of public affection, lighting your skin with a faint blush. “You’re doing well.”

That’s all you need. That tiny piece of praise is enough to sustain you through most anything.

Though that resolve is tested by a sudden tug to the rope along your thigh. You manage to swallow a gasp and close your eyes for a brief moment. He’s smiling when you open them. “Good kitten.”

He removes his hand then, and you sit back in the chair, holding your tongue between your teeth. The rope hasn’t quite return to its previous slackness, and the rings circling your breasts are aching so perfectly. You want it to be tighter again; you want his hands on the rope to tug and twist it… but you will have self-control.

The evening progresses with chatter and noise, some of which you respond to with poise as befits the young Mrs. Han. You hope that you’re doing well for him, and he occasionally shows his reassurance in those small glances of feather-light touches. Eventually the lights focus on the vast marble dance floor and the accompanying band that begin a beautiful waltz.

You throb with anxious anticipation as he offers you his hand to guide you towards the open space. You will be so close and so many eyes will be on you...

His hand closes around your waist with confidence, and you place yours on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze – letting him know that you adore his closeness. Your other hands clasp together and you begin to move, him leading you expertly through the motions as you move effortlessly across the floor. There are other couples, of course, but they don’t matter.

Your cheeks are flushed, and not from the warmth of the room. Every step you take echoes through your body and vibrates along the rope, the friction burning heated lines that make you squeeze his shoulder a little harder. He pulls you closer in response, as if daring you to lose your impeccable focus. He knows you won’t though; he’s teasing you.

Your entire body feels especially sensitive as the dance continues/ Each nudge of your chest against his cause a visible darkening of your eyes, the build-up of need obvious to him as he guides you through the steps. There is a dampness between your legs that craves satisfaction, and you tremble against him as one of his strong thighs rubs briefly but purposefully between your thighs. A promise of more to come when you’re in a private setting.

Eventually the waltz is over, and you lost track of time completely. You’re left breathing a little harder than before, but thankfully that could be due to the dance itself, rather than the secret hidden beneath your clothes.

“Had enough, kitten?” He asks you quietly as the pair of you steps back from the dance floor. Your eyelids flutter for a moment as you gather yourself, gripping his arm and leaning against his side. You almost came undone in the middle of the room. The eyes on you, the burning of rope and his intense stare… they were almost too much.

“I… will take whatever you give, Jumin.” You can call him Jumin only on public occasions. Too many prying ears to risk the proper address, but you offer him reverence with your downcast eyes and shivering body.

“Perfect… but I think we should return to the penthouse. Much as I would like to see your lovely resolve crumble… I would rather that be private.”

You look up to meet his eyes, several shades darker than usual. He is affected too, and your body throbs at the revelation. “Yes… can we go home, then?”

“Of course, kitten.”


End file.
